


Just Say Yes

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Irish!Niall as usual, M/M, University AU, american!louis, british!Harry, implied past Louis Tomlinson/Zayn Malik, obviously, some smut if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Well, given that I’ve run all out of options - I’d like to propose,” Louis says with a sharp grin.‘Propose what?’ Harry questions, frown on his face. ‘Honestly Louis, you’re in trouble here and we have to find a way that’ll allow you to stay. Now’s not the time to be cryptic.’“I’m not being cryptic – I’m proposing, here.” He sits down on one knee and quickly fashions a ring out of the hair-tie he’s still got wrapped around his wrist.“Harry Styles – please marry me and make an honest, British citizen out of me.”--or the one where Louis and Harry fake a marriage to keep Louis in Britain, and it's suspiciously easy, until it isn't anymore.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 260
Collections: 28 Proposals Fic Fest





	1. Prologue

Louis is drunk.

He’s absolutely plastered. And for the first time in his life – he’s _legally_ wasted.

‘Coming here to study in the UK was the best decision ever! Fuck Trump!’ He shouts as he takes another shot. His newly made Irish friend Niall that he’d met during the introductory session for internationals laughs and echoes his statement.

“Fuck Trump!” Someone else exclaims in a deep voice that makes Louis cheer loudly. He whips his head around to see who’s mimicked him, and comes face to face with the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

He’s got the most exquisite curls, even though they’re a bit frizzy – it just makes it more endearing. The guy also possesses moss green eyes that have glassed over a bit from the alcohol. They look like gemstones and Louis is 100% obsessed. British boys really are the best of the best.

‘I am going to marry him,’ he whispers excitedly to Niall, who shakes his head with a grin.

Clearly, he doesn’t really know how forward Americans can be. That’s fine, because Louis is about to demonstrate.

‘Oi! Curly!’ He marches over there, drink still in hand. The other boy twists around from where he’d been dancing like a possessed noodle with a pretty intimidating bulky friend that Louis is choosing to ignore in the moment. It’s become clear that the noodle-like stature is also part of the boy’s normal mobility, because as he twists back he manages to knock Louis’ drink out of his hands and on the floor.

His green eyes widen comically as he pouts at the spilled beer, then back up at Louis who can’t stop grinning.

“Oops.”

‘Hi. Please marry me.’

The burly friend Louis has done his best of ignoring so far seems to move forward, but Curly holds up his arm to stop him. An amused smirk glides onto his face, and any fear Louis might have had of his advances being rejected fly out the window.

“Marriage is a big deal, you know? Let’s start with our names. I have to see whether or not your last name fits mine – I like them hyphenated ones,” he replies with a distinct British accent that make Louis’ heart skip another beat.

‘Louis Tomlinson,’ Louis provides eagerly, sticking out the hand that’s least sweaty and gross from all the alcohol that’s sloshed over it.

“Hm. Harry Tomlinson-Styles. What do you think, Liam? Should I accept?” He looks back at his friend, who is still semi-scowling at Louis.

‘I think he’s a drunk and rowdy American, and asking someone to marry them as an opening line is a little much. Maybe just offer him a drink, next time.’ It’s clear Liam is directing the last bit towards Louis, but he shrugs it off – he’s not the one he’s trying to impress.

Harry just laughs and shakes his head. “You know commitment really gets me going, though.”

He can’t help but smile even wider at that, ‘perfect! I’m a romantic. I can’t cook but I can promise I really do like to try!’

Out of the corner of his eye he can spot Liam roll his eyes, “oh here we go.”

Harry’s eyes light up. “I used to work at a bakery!” Liam mouths along with what Harry’s saying and Louis can’t help but crack up. He wonders how long the two of them have been friends – it must be quite a while if Liam can predict what Harry’s about to say.

He wants to respond and ask them about it, would love to know more about Harry’s baking skills, but then there’s a loud crash from behind them, and a yell that’s unmistakeably Niall’s. When he looks over, he sees that the podium block Niall’d been standing on earlier has partially collapsed, and his friend’s lying on the floor in the midst of a couple other party goers.

Immediately, Louis rushes over to help him, cute British boys all but forgotten. “Are you alright?!”

Niall’s cackling like a mad man, and Louis hopes it’s not some sort of response out of pure shock. ‘That was _epic_! Fuck yeah, university is amazing!’

The people surrounding them echo Niall’s statement, as a new wave of yells and whoops spread though the crowd. “Let’s get another shot, my man – alcohol’s a great disinfectant, right?” Someone shouts at them, and Louis finds himself nodding enthusiastically in return.

He is pretty sure he’s heard his mum say something like that about alcohol before, and Niall also seems receptive to the idea, so it must be the truth.

There’s something niggling at the back of Louis’ brain, as if he’s forgotten about something important – but he can’t quite remember it.

Figuring it’ll probably make its way back to the front of his brain if it’s important, he just throws back another shot and flirts for free drinks until the sun comes up.

He doesn’t even remember his husband-to-be until he runs into him the next day. Or well, it’s more like Harry runs into _him_ and makes Louis spill his freshly ordered coffee all over his coat.

‘Noooo,’ he moans out, ‘that was supposed to cure my hangover.’

“Oh fuck, shit – I’m so sorry!” It’s the slow and deep drawl he hears that triggers Louis’ memories, as he immediately whips his head up to look at Harry.

He can’t help the rush of excitement that comes over him as he realises who he’s bumped into. ‘My future husband!’

It takes Harry a second to put two and two together, judging by the frown, but then he smiles back brightly. “Louis! I was wondering where you’d gone off to yesterday.”

He pauses, then looks down at the spilled coffee and his face falls. “Oh no, I ruined your hangover cure. And your coat, shit.”

Louis had gotten a bit lost in the dimple etched into Harry’s cheek, but he realises suddenly that Harry’s right, as he can feel the hot coffee soaking into his sleeve.

He shrugs and makes a face.

Not that it’s fine, because he’s actually only had his coat for about a week and also he really did need his coffee, but he still finds himself reassuring Harry. “It’s fine, nothing a bit of laundry won’t fix.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at him and grabs a hold of Louis’ coffee-soaked sleeve. ‘This will _not _come out in the wash. You’ll have to get it dry-cleaned.’

Upon seeing Louis’ perplexed face, Harry lets go of the sleeve again and motions for Louis to take it off.

‘Don’t worry, since I caused this, I’ll also fix it. I’ll bring it to the dry cleaners’ right next to the Oak – you ever been there?’

Apparently Harry has no regard at all whatsoever for the fact that Louis is wearing a coat not just as an aesthetic choice – he’s cold. “I haven’t, but also – you _really_ don’t have to do this.”

Frowning, Harry cocks his head to the side. It’s somewhat adorable, way more adorable than it ought to be, and so Louis finds himself even more endeared.

‘But I do, I really do. I ruined your coat! After you were so kind to me yesterday, the least I can do is actually clean up the mess I made,’ he pauses for a beat, eyeing Louis up critically.

‘You can wear my coat, if you think you’ll be cold?’

Before Louis can even consider it, Harry’s already shrugging off his own jacket and handing it off to him.

‘Here, take it – I insist. Let me give you my phone number and then we can meet up later this week so I can return your coat,’ Harry implores. There isn’t much Louis can do but agree. It is quite chilly outside, and to be fair – his soaked jacket isn’t really ameliorating the cold right now.

Besides, Harry is just as handsome and hot as Louis had thought yesterday, which is a miracle considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. In either case, he’s not just beautiful, he’s also kind – and so Louis will take any and all reason to see him again.

“Alright. Yeah, sure.”

It makes a smile break out on Harry’s face, dimples on display once more. He motions for Louis to give his phone, before typing in his number.

‘There you go,’ Harry starts as he hands him back his phone. It reminds him of the fact that he’d dropped it again the night before, and he’s really going to save up to get a new one soon – preferably before he cuts himself on the broken screen.

He’s never going to be able to afford it if he keeps spending money on coffee, and yet he’s definitely going to go back and buy new coffee. He also needs to finish his degree, and that means he has to show up to class somewhat lucid.

“Thanks. Hey, would you want to come with me to get a new coffee now that this one’s pretty much gone?”

In Louis’ opinion, it’s a pretty innocent question. Nevertheless, Harry seems to hesitate in a way that makes Louis’ stomach churn uncomfortably.

‘I don’t want you get the wrong idea, so – about what you asked the other night. I’m already behind this term, and I can’t afford to get distracted,’ Harry trails off without properly answering Louis’ proposal, guilt dripping from each word that he speaks.

The pit in Louis’ stomach grows as Harry’s words wash over him. He can’t lie – he’s disappointed.

‘..but I hope we can maybe be friends? I think you’re a great person and I’d love to spend more time with you,’ Harry implores hopefully. It’s enough to make Louis laugh.

“Slow down Curly – my ego’s all dizzy from your rejection followed by compliments.”

‘I’m sorry, I just, well, you seem really cool and I’d love to be in your orbit a bit longer.’

Louis wonders if he knows anyone who’s ever said ‘be in your orbit’ so seriously, but he only finds himself endeared rather than annoyed by it.

So he nods. “Friends it is, then.”

‘Friends it is.’


	2. T minus 60 days

Louis groans and smacks his lips together, the taste of sleep and bad decisions still all too familiar on his tongue. He can hear a phone buzzing somewhere, so he rolls over and checks if it’s the one on his nightstand.

When it’s not, he groans even louder and rolls back, shoving at the man that’s lying next to him. “For fuck’s sake, get your fucking phone Luke.”

‘Fuck you,’ Luke murmurs, swatting at Louis’ form without even opening his eyes. Louis sighs and straddles him, then makes a point of shutting his phone off and throwing it on the carpet right next to Luke’s discarded jeans.

“Already did that yesterday, and unfortunately for you – it was a one time show.”

Luke opens his eyes, hand trailing up and down Louis’ bare ass before gripping it firmly. It’s not entirely unwelcome, but Louis’ got a pretty strict policy when it comes to his sleeping habits. No morning frolicking. It's too... intimate. 

‘You sure about that?’

Louis rolls his eyes, but lets Luke play with him for a little bit anyways. He’s got a soft spot for him.

“Yes, Luke. I’m sure. Now get out,” he urges and gets up to put on a fresh pair of boxers himself.

A low, disappointed chuckle follows, but Luke obliges. Within minutes he's dressed and bending to kiss Louis’ cheek at the front door. ‘Let me know when you're playing again, yeah?’

Louis nods and waves, then closes the door.

“That was way more information than I needed.”

Startled, Louis turns around and sighs when he sees Harry’s amused face looking back at him.

‘Fuck off, he’s talking about playing pool.’

Harry just raises his eyebrows. “If you say so, Lou. By the way, some mail arrived for you this morning,” he adds, pointing to an envelope on the kitchen counter, right next to a plate of freshly made eggs.

‘Honestly, I love you. Moving in together was the best decision I’ve ever made,’ Louis half-moans as he takes a bite of the eggs. They’re delicious, as usual.

Harry and him have shared an apartment for about 9 months now and he’s still not quite used to the fact Harry’s so nice about making him breakfast every morning. In fact, Louis’ quite certain he’s going to come out of this living arrangement being spoiled and bratty, and ruined for whoever he ends up with next.

“You should ask Luke if he wants to stay and make you breakfast as well next time.”

Louis stops eating and rolls his eyes at Harry. ‘Harold, you know that it’s not like that. He’s a friend, and we fuck sometimes. I don’t want any of my mates to stay for breakfast. Breakfast’s our thing.’

While Harry looks slightly mollified, Louis can’t help but feel a tad annoyed over the fixation he seems to have with Luke. He’s just a good friend of Louis’, that happens to be quite attractive and good in bed. He’s not boyfriend material, though. Not for Louis.

“Does he know that, though? He’s been here a couple of times, and I overheard him talking to Jake the other day. Think he might ask you out on a real date soon.”

‘I’ll tell him no. Though you shouldn’t eavesdrop on people, that’s rude.’

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Harry insists, pouting. “They were talking about it in class, and I just happened to sit behind them.”

Fuck. Class. Louis has _class_. In about 15 minutes, he realises as he watches the clock Harry had installed on their wall just last week. Louis had told him off, because they weren’t going to be living in student housing much longer anyways, what with their final exams approaching. Nevertheless, he’s never felt more happy with it than in that moment.

He’s going for perfect attendance, since he’ll need any recommendation he can get to find a proper job as an international in Britain. Louis can’t afford to be late.

He quickly rushes out their small living room to grab his bag, and is about to run out the door when Harry appears in his periphery. “It’s Wednesday, Louis. You don’t _have _class.”

Louis’ backpack drops on the floor again. ‘Oh.’

“However, I _do _have class on Wednesday, so I’m heading out. Don’t forget to look at that letter. Seems important,” Harry stresses with wide eyes, then smacks a kiss on Louis’ cheek as he leaves their apartment.

Louis rolls his eyes and glances at his mail. It’s probably not that important, he figures. At least, not as important as catching up on some sleep on their very comfortable couch. He had a very busy night, after all.

‘It can wait,’ Louis decides out loud, before grabbing a blanket and settling in.

* * *

He wakes up three hours later with his back aching. Louis sighs and stretches his arms, trying to get rid of the unpleasant feeling lingering in his muscles.

“I told you, you should do yoga with me,” Harry remarks from where he’s sitting at their dining table, study books spread across the table.

Louis rolls his eyes. They both know Harry has only gone to one yoga session before proclaiming himself a true yogi. And while Harry does own a yoga mat, Louis is fairly sure that it hasn’t been outside their storage closet since the week after they moved in.

‘I don’t need yoga. Already plenty flexible as is, trust me.’

Harry hums distractedly, probably already caught up in whatever paper he’s reading at the minute. Louis should get started too – his minor in Middle Eastern Studies is proving to be much more difficult than he’d initially imagined. If he wants to graduate on time, he’ll have to make sure that he doesn’t have to take any resits.

“Have you looked at your letter yet?”

At that, Louis perks up a little so he can glance at the abandoned letter on the kitchen counter. He’d kind of forgotten about it already, but he doesn’t need Harry to know that. ‘No, it’s probably just another letter reminding me that I need to pay my tuition next month.’

‘They send you actual letters for that?’

‘Yeah, I’ve gotten a few of them over the years. Every couple months or so. I think it’s because of graduation coming up in two months, they’ll want to make sure I’ve paid everything prior to that date,’ Louis nods.

Harry disbelievingly stares at the envelope, and Louis can just tell by the slight twitch in his fingertips that he’s trying really hard to keep himself from ripping the envelope wide open. In an attempt to distract him, Louis quickly changes the topic.

“So – how was your class?”

Harry fixes him with a look and raises his eyebrows. ‘You should know by now that won’t make me forget about it.’

Rolling his eyes, Louis dramatically unfolds himself from where he’d still been lying on the couch.

'Fine,' he drawls, 'I'll go and open it right now and you'll be able to know exactly what it says.'

Harry claps his hands excitedly, green eyes twinkling in the pathetic excuse of a lamp they'd bought together just 3 months ago. They'll have to invest in some more upscale furniture once they're both graduated.

He picks up the letter and frowns as he sees the 'IMPORTANT' stamped on there. He's never seen that before on his invoices. Flipping it around, Louis carefully peels the envelope open, making sure he doesn't rip it anywhere.

Impatient fingers dance on the table top, but Louis ignores them as he slides out the letter and unfolds it, before reading it through himself.

It's not an invoice.

It's also not a warning about an incoming invoice.

It's something entirely different that manages to make Louis' heart sink immediately, sending sparks of anxiety through his body.

"Well, what does it say?" Harry inquires, trying to read over Louis' shoulder, but Louis moves it out of his eyesight.

He bites his lip. He's not sure if he wants Harry to know, but he also knows there's no escaping this.

So he decides to just read the words out loud. He clears his throat, and with a slightly more emotional tone to his voice than he'd like, he starts reciting.

_'Dear Mister Tomlinson,_

_As per our previous letters and per your original exchange agreement, your visa has been granted on the basis of your enrollment in a British University. Given your approaching graduation date, it is imperative that you are aware of the fact that your visa will expire in the week of your graduation ceremony, after your removal from our student registry as an active student. _

_If you wish to remain in the United Kingdom beyond your educational endeavours, you can contact the Immigration Office or visit the Embassy of the United States of America. They will be able to provide you with more information as to your options, including visa waivers and extensions, as well as immigration and naturalization. _

_Please direct any other questions you may have as to your student status to the Administration Office of your Faculty. _

_Kind regards,_

_the Faculty Board.' _

He lowers his arm and stares at Harry helplessly, who can't do anything but stare back in utter astonishment.

Harry's the one to break the silence eventually, spluttering out a gobsmacked "what?", before wordlessly asking for Louis to hand over the letter.

Reluctantly, he complies, an ugly feeling of shame and annoyance unfurling in his chest - it's not as if there's anything Louis could have interpreted incorrectly about the whole thing.

"How can they - previous letters? When were you getting these letters?" Harry wonders, eyes raking over the content once more, as Louis stands to the side, paralyzed. "Do you know your visa status? Maybe they just made a mistake. I mean, the uni's admin do that all the time, don't they? This - it just can't be right. It can't be."

Louis tunes out then, just sits back down and stares at the wall he was just thinking of painting the other day. The future he was banking on has just been ripped away from him, and he can't help but feel that it's because of his own incapacity to keep track of the basic, adult responsibilities that come with studying abroad.

'I might've - I may have thrown some unopened letters away? In my defense, I though they were just invoices! And I have an automated payment set up, so I just never open them."

It sounds stupid and small, and so irresponsible - even to his own ears, but it's the truth anyways. An ugly truth.

Harry seems stunned into silence by the confession, but Louis' too scared to even look him in the eye now. Too ashamed of his situation. He can hear the judgment in Harry’s voice as he lets out a deep sigh.

'And clearly, I don't know my visa status or I wouldn't be in this position. Oh God, Harry, I'm going to get deported,' he wails dramatically as he realises the implication of the letter. He'll have to go back to the States, go back to D.C.

It dawns on him that he really doesn't want to.

'I _can't_ go back,' he pleads, suddenly overcome with the desperate need for Harry to calm him down and tell him it'll all be alright. Louis finds himself half gasping for air, panic overtaking him at the idea of having to leave England behind, having to leave his life behind.

Luckily, Harry seems to understand that Louis doesn't want or need to hear the harsh truth right now, because Harry instead just wraps him up in a tight hug and whispers that he won't have to.

"We'll fix it. Don't worry. Slow down, you're going to give yourself a panic attack, just - follow my breathing," Harry mutters, placing Louis' hand on his chest so he can feel the rhythm of the steady in and outtake of air.

"You're my best friend, Lou - I'm not gonna let some dumb visa rule take you away from me."

'That's all it is, a dumb visa rule,' Louis repeats, even though it sounds disbelieving to his own ears.

Harry grins and nods. "Just a dumb visa rule."

For a while, Louis feels fine pretending it’s the truth.

* * *

“What do you mean they can’t extend your visa any longer?” Harry questions, a disturbed look on his face.

Louis sighs and repeats what the Embassy had told him. ‘Because I don’t qualify. And then I contacted the Immigration Office at their behest, and they said that even if I applied now, it wouldn’t be granted on time. But if I overstay my welcome, I’d _definitely_ be at risk of being deported – since they now know about my situation and they know my address – and I’d never get a long-term visa again.’

Surprisingly, he doesn’t even feel sad anymore. Just numb. He’d already cried his eyes out at the University Administration Office, then at the Embassy; but the Consular Officer hadn’t cared all that much. They’d offered him a tissue, told him there was nothing they could do about it, and that he could make a new appointment if his circumstances had changed.

Exasperated, Harry gestures wildly at the letter they'd shoved underneath a pile of newspapers out of frustration, and then had dug up again over the course of the week to stare at a bit more and see if there was anything they'd missed.

"So what? We're just giving up?! Are you crazy?!"

It's slightly endearing to hear Harry refer to Louis' problem as his own, although it really, really isn't. Louis should've just opened his letters like an actual adult, and he should've been aware of his visa status too. He should've done a lot of things.

But he didn't, and now he's here. He shrugs, feigning a smile. 'Well, I guess I'll just never graduate.'

Harry rolls his eyes at him, and sighs. "That's definitely not an option. You can't delay your life forever." 

For a second, Louis feels the urge to say that he'd like to try, but he also knows that it's a ridiculous thought to even entertain. He can't be a student forever - he doesn't even /want/ to be a student forever.

"Okay, well - we shouldn't panic yet. We've got some time left. Let's just - let's take some time to do research. Surely you're not the first person this has happened to. And surely there are loopholes. We just - we just have to find them. That's all."

Louis sighs and shakes his head, a lump forming in his throat. 'Haz, you're such a good friend. But let's just both admit this is pointless. I'll have to leave the UK, and I'll just - I'll find my way in the US.'

His words are meant to be placating, but they have the opposite effect. Harry looks almost angry, as he furiously shakes his head.

"No. You belong here. With me," he says stubbornly. 

Louis lets out a wet laugh, then sits down on the couch and tries to swallow the tears away. 'God, fuck - I'm so fucked. I'm such a mess. What the fuck.'

The couch dips, and two arms wrap around him.

"It's not over yet," Harry whispers, and as reassuring as it is, Louis knows they're just going in circles of deep denial. It's time to move on to the next step - acceptance.

'Haz. I don't have any options left. I just - I want to forget for a bit. Let's text Niall and Liam and let's get fucking shitfaced, okay? Don't tell them, though. Please.'

He can see the hesitance etched into Harry's face by the way his eyebrows pull together - it always makes Louis want to gently smooth it out again.

'Please,' he implores, so unlike himself - he doesn't like to beg for anything, not seriously at least - that it makes Harry relent almost immediately.

"Alright. Fine. But I'm not giving up yet. And neither should you."

Louis shakes his head, but he can't help the small flicker of hope grows a little bit stronger with Harry's words - as naive as that may be.

* * *

Getting shitfaced is going absolutely splendidly, if Louis may say so himself. He's got no idea what's up or down, all he knows is that he's been sipping on this seemingly bottomless drink of vodka-cranberry. It's delicious, tastes so sweet it might as well be lemonade, but Louis knows it isn't just by the way he's floating across his own living room.

"D'ya remember how you two met? That was hilarious," Niall suddenly exclaims from where he's sitting on their sofa. They'd been playing FIFA before, but then Louis had won and he'd decided they should play Exploding Kittens instead to 'even everyone's chances'. 

Louis had gone in search of the box, but that's when he'd suddenly felt the alcohol hit him. He'd kind of forgotten about finding the game, and had wandered off to the bathroom to pick up a hair tie for Harry instead once he'd seen him blowing hair out of his face three times in a row.

He's back now - box in one hand, drink in the other, hair tie wrapped around his wrist. He grins at Niall as he dumps the box on his lap.

'Yeah it was,' he muses, looking over at Harry who's started clearing up their table to make room for the game.

"I can't believe we ended up being friends," Liam adds in for good measure, earning himself a punch in the shoulder.

Louis can't believe it either, though, if he's honest. He can still remember - despite the alcohol haze - how disapproving Liam had been at first. Or at least, that's what he'd thought at the time.

Now he knows Liam's just really protective, and he'd already been annoyed by Harry's own drunken antics that night. In fact, if Louis was going to tell anyone else aside from Harry about his current predicament - it'd be Liam.

Liam would know what to do.

But Liam can't know, and neither can Niall that Louis is a fuck-up of epic proportions. 

Niall pulls at Louis' shirt, signaling for him to sit down next to him.

'Who _wouldn't_ want to be friends with the person who thinks a proposal is an appropriate opening line?'

The box of Exploding Kittens clatters onto the ground all of a sudden, and it makes the three men all whip their head around to see what's happened.

Harry's staring at Louis wide-eyed, hands still outstretched as if he hadn't meant to let go of the box.

His cheeks are ruddy from the alcohol, and his curls look a little frazzled, but then he promptly looks down and starts apologizing for dropping everything. He's quite certain there's something Harry wanted to say, but then Louis is being offered another drink by Niall and just like that he's distracted again.

It isn't until later that night, once Niall and Liam have gone home again and Louis is trying to decide whether or not he'll make it to the bathroom to brush his teeth, that Harry brings it up himself.

"Lou - are you awake?" He whispers not so softly, poking Louis' arm from where it's hanging off the couch.

He grumbles and blinks open one eye to look at Harry. He's hanging over him, features appearing upside down in such a way that he looks a bit like a frog. It kind of makes Louis want to giggle, but something in the way Harry's looking at him stills whatever giggle that might've bubbled up from his chest.

"I've got it! I've got the solution. When I heard Niall and Liam talking, I just - I realised the solution's been staring us right in the face the entire time!"

Louis rubs his eyes for good measure, then sits up. 'What solution? What are you talking about?'

"For you! For us! You remember how we met, right?"

He nods, not entirely getting why Harry's so excited when Louis has long since passed his alcohol-fueled energy peak. Maybe it's because Harry's a lightweight and is still riding that vodka-induced wave - Louis can't tell. 

'Yes, I tried to pick you up by proposing to you.'

"That's _it_! Don't you see, Lou? We just gotta get _married_! Then you'll be able to stay here."

It's too easy, Louis thinks. His plan sounds way too alluring and simple to be real. There's a catch - he knows there is one, but he's too drunk and sleepy to really think it through.

So he ends up finding himself just nodding along. 'Let's get married, Hazza. Nothing beats marrying your best friend, anyways,' he murmurs, letting Harry pull him up and off the couch.

"Let's go to bed, we'll talk about it in the morning," he can hear Harry say as he falls face first onto his mattress, a warm blanket suddenly encompassing him as he buries himself into his pillow.

'Tomorrow morning,' he mumbles back, trying to lift his arm and give Harry a thumbs up, but his hand feels too heavy and refuses to follow through.

That night he dreams of deep-blue tuxedos and colour-coordinated ties. It's the first time he ever dreams of weddings.

* * *

To Louis' great surprise, he remembers everything, despite the copious amounts of vodka he'd consumed the night before. In fact, it's Harry - lightweight that he is - that has no recollection whatsoever when it comes to his own proposal.

Or at least, that's what Louis assumes when Harry doesn't appear until 4PM, looking like a zombie, holding a trashcan under his arm in case he needs to puke.

And the thing is - the thing is Louis knows that Harry's idea was infused with alcohol and that it's crazy. He realizes it's completely unfeasible, that it's frankly ridiculous - preposterous even.

And yet he finds himself looking up the Immigration Office's website, pouring over the rules of being granted a visa based on your marital status. 

The more he reads, the more he can feel a treacherous feeling of hope blossom. It's surprisingly easy. All they'd need to do is just... do it. Register to get married, send off the paperwork - and wait. Because apparently once you hand in your application, you'll be put on a bridging visa anyways, until a final decision is made.

Louis isn't too worried about all that, since Harry and him have known each other now for three years - and have lived together for one. They know each other inside out, they'd ace whatever test with regards to partner knowledge.

He can't help but feel excitement, albeit paired with an undercurrent of anxiety. He knows it's maybe too much to ask of Harry - ask of anyone. But he'd offered himself, hadn't he?

"Fuck, we are never doing that again," Harry moans pitifully from where he's draped himself all over their sofa.

Louis grins and shuts his MacBook carefully, before making his way over to him. 'We say that every single time, and yet.'

"I can't even remember what I had to drink last night. The last thing I remember is taking shots for every single time Niall's Irish accent was noticeable, which was a terribly bad idea."

It confirms what Louis already suspected - Harry has no clue that he's a drunk genius.

"But what I do remember, is that we're now 59 days away from your visa expiry. Fuck, I can't believe that might've been the last time we do that."

Louis doesn't want to spend too much time thinking on that either. He knows it's a terrible idea to put all his eggs in one basket, but truly - he has no other choice.

“Well, given that I’ve run all out of options - I’d like to propose,” Louis says with a sharp grin.

‘Propose what?’ Harry questions, frown on his face. ‘Honestly Louis, you’re in trouble here and we have to find a way that’ll allow you to stay. Now’s not the time to be cryptic.’

“I’m not being cryptic – I’m proposing, here.” He sits down on one knee and quickly fashions a ring out of the hair-tie he’s still got wrapped around his wrist.

“Harry Styles – please marry me and make an honest, British citizen out of me.”

Incredulously, Harry’s eyebrows draw even closer together.

‘Are you being serious right now?’

“Am I or am I not on one knee,” Louis deadpans as he motions at the ring. It’s not like he does things like this all that often.

‘You’re absolutely crazy,’ Harry breathes out.

It’s not a no. “Well, luckily - so are you. You proposed to me just last night, actually. After Niall and Liam had left. 's only today that I've looked it all up. It's my only legitimate option, and it'd be so easy."

Harry frowns deepens in confusion for a short second, nose scrunching up as he tries to remember, before his face smooths out into an almost amused smile, eyes wide in recognition. 'Oh fuck! I did suggest that, didn't I? I think I remember Niall saying something about it earlier last night that made me think of it.'

Louis nods, and chuckles at the fact he's still balancing on his one knee, waiting for an answer. "So - what do you say, hm? Want to be my partner in crime? For real?"

Harry smiles, then pretends to think before he slowly sits up so he can reach out for the ring-shaped hair-tie Louis is holding. 'Well, I do believe this belongs to me.'

Excitedly, Louis jumps up as soon as Harry's put on the makeshift ring. 'But I'm not watching 90 Days to Wed to prepare,' Harry adds hastily, eliciting a pout from Louis.

"Why do you have to ruin all my fun?"

'Because I'm your better half, dear,' Harry starts, then pales and grabs for the trashcan, 'who's now going to use your proposal ring to tie back my hair while I vomit, thanks.'


	3. The Wedding

They spend the following week looking up all the information they can find on the visa process, and hashing out all the details. In a weird way, it becomes the source of so much secrecy and excitement that it feels almost like what Louis imagines real wedding planning to be.

However, he assumes that you don't discuss the minutiae of your impending divorce when you're actually planning for a wedding. Nevertheless, Harry and he make sure they agree on that too. First of all, there's the time frame. As long as Louis doesn't have a job that can provide him with a visa, or hasn't found another way to stay in the country - they'll continue their ruse.

It's not like they imagine it'll be very hard. They've been friends for a long time now, and have lived together for a year. They know each other inside out - except not literally - and even pretended to be a couple in order to get the larger apartment they'd set their sights on. Louis reckons they'll be able to be quite convincing; or at least convincing enough.

The only reason for them to divorce other than successfully acquiring a visa for Louis, is if either of them falls in love. While Harry had been hesitant, Louis had insisted they should talk about it.

It had taken him a week, but he'd finally been able to corner Harry in their own home.

"What if you fall in love with someone else? I don't want you to feel obliged to not pursue it because you feel you owe it to me or something to keep up the illusion," he explains.

Harry rolls his eyes. 'How long is this going to take, maybe a year or two, max? I doubt I'm going to meet the love of my life in such a timespan. Besides, if it's meant to be - I'm sure I'd meet them again once I'm not married. I'm not going to be the asshole who's the cheater.'

"Harry. We're not even truly together. You wouldn't be the cheater. We'd just - we'd cite 'irreconcilable differences' or something," Louis implores with a grin, before switching to a more serious tone. "You're giving up part of this whole experience, the whole getting married shtick, you're giving that all up for me. I don't want you to regret that. I don't want to stand in the way of you actually living your life, okay?"

Hesitantly, Harry nods. 'Okay.' Then, he bites his lip as if to hold back his smile. 'It's just, I never imagined I'd get married in City Hall - just for the paperwork.'

Guilt travels up Louis' spine, matching smile sliding off his face, and he's about to speak up and tell Harry they're not going through with it when he continues.

'But, then again, this one doesn't even count. It'll be like a test-run. Then once I get married for real, I'll know exactly what I want, I'll have my family there and my mum can walk me down the aisle.'

That brings them to a whole other topic. One that Louis had sidestepped pretty deliberately, because he's not sure how to deal with that himself.

Family.

What do they tell their family? And friends?

"What's our game plan when it comes to that, anyways? I think the less people know, the better," he questions out loud, shaking out his fringe. He really should get a haircut soon.

'I think,' Harry starts, 'I think that we should stick as close to the truth as possible. Let's just say we fell in love gradually, falling from our friendship into a relationship, and that we just knew - but that we didn't want to have the distance get in the way, so we decided to get married. That way it's not completely a lie, and it'll also make sense to Niall, Liam and anyone else here on campus.'

It's Louis' turn to nod now, albeit with some reticence. On the one hand, he understands where Harry is coming from and he does believe that it's best to not tell anyone about what they're doing. It's, well - it's illegal. If they want a shot at succeeding, they'll have to do it by themselves. On the other hand, he'd kind of hoped that they'd each choose one person, one confidant at least that they'd be able to talk to. Like in movies, and such.

Harry seems to sense his discomfort and rushes to explain. 'It's not that I don't trust Liam or Niall, but,' he bites his lip and looks away. 'But, I know that if I were to tell Liam, he'd judge me. He wouldn't stop us or anything, but I'm not sure he'd be able to deal with having to compromise his morals, and I don't want to put him in that position. And well -'

"It'd be unfair to tell Niall, and not Liam, I see what you're saying," Louis finishes for him. Besides, they both know that Niall can be a great secret-keeper, but he is also a terrible gossip depending on whether or not he likes you.

Harry sighs. 'Also, as much as I love my sister, I don't think she'd get it. My mum, my parents - they have very different ideas when it comes to the sanctity of marriage, despite her being divorced twice.'

Louis can relate. He knows his mom will be understanding enough when it comes to staying in the UK - they both know he isn't meant for the United States. He's never felt at home, and he's always been an outsider there.

What she will not be understanding about, is the fact he's failed to mention he's married someone - let alone that she wasn't invited to the wedding.

It's a necessary evil they'll both have to face. Pretending in City Hall is one thing, pretending in front of an audience of loved ones - that's one step too far, even for Harry and Louis.

"Okay. So it'll be just us, then. Witnesses?" Louis asks. They could just ask someone at the municipality to do it, but he's not sure if that's believable or not.

Harry shrugs and purses his lips, as if deep in thought, so Louis decides to just throw some suggestions out there.

'We could ask Liam and Niall? They'd be thrilled to be involved, and it might be better to have at least someone there? They can corroborate how excited we were, and that we just couldn't wait any longer,' he jokes.

It makes Harry smile, at least, so Louis feels like he's succeeded a little bit in lifting the mood.

"Alright then. Let's get this wedding sorted. You set the date, I'll sort the wedding invitations."

* * *

Apparently, you can't get married to a non-EEA national within the 28 days that follow the giving notice bit, which makes Harry and Louis feel like they're guarding the most precious secret in the world. It's almost like being Secret Santa, with a huge surprise awaiting their friends.

While it's almost unbearable to have to sit it all out - go to visa appointments to get all the paperwork approved, and show them that Harry and Louis truly are in love - it does provide them with the opportunity to lay the groundwork for their sudden relationship.

They've always been tactile, but with their impending marriage they turn it up a notch. Lingering touches, additional cheek kisses, and no more hook-ups for Louis. It's earned him some weird looks from Niall. On Harry's part, he makes sure to always stay close to Louis and starts bringing lunch they can share. It gives them an extra reason to sit next to each other.

They bicker about laundry and chores just as they did before, with the addition of terrible nicknames that has Liam wonder if they're playing a prank on them.

It's a little too close to the truth, and while they're able to get away with it - Louis' glad when the day of their actual wedding finally arrives.

What's odd about it, is that aside from the jitters and exhilarated feeling rushing through his veins, it's just a normal Tuesday in Manchester. There's nothing extraordinary at all about the day, except for the fact that Harry and him are getting married.

Or at least, they're supposed to get married at 2.30PM - if their witnesses manages to show up in time, that is.

Maybe they should've been more specific than just a "show up in a nice tux at City Hall on Tuesday."

On the other hand, with all the adrenaline and nerves rushing through his body - the distraction of seeing Niall and Liam's confused faces is more than welcome.

Determined, Louis grabs a hold of Harry's hand and twists the ring he's gotten Harry just for the occasion. "There you are!"

'... What the fuck are you two doing,' Niall asks, pausing for good measure to stare at their entwined hands.

"And why do we need to wear a tux for it," Liam adds, suspicion dripping off his voice.

Warily, Louis looks over at Harry who's just smiling serenely at their friends. He gives Louis' hand a small squeeze.

"We're so excited you two could make it. This is going to be a very special moment for us - we're getting married!"

It's quiet for a beat, and then Niall starts grinning widely. 'Yes, you totally owe me 20 quid - pay up Payno!'

Liam grumbles, but gets out his wallet anyways. "We never said anything about a wedding, this isn't fair."

Confused, Louis watches the scene unfold, before interjecting.

'Hang on - did you two make a bet? A bet on whether or not Harry and I were going to get together?'

"Don't think you could fool us so easily, you guys have been so obvious. I knew you guys were each other's crushes ever since you met - it just took you a really long time to get your shit together, huh?" Niall smirks.

'Honestly, of course you'd be the dramatic type who decide to get married once they know,' Liam huffs as he hands Niall his money.

Astonished, Harry pulls at his shirt, hand still clammy in Louis' own.

"I can't believe our own friends bet on us," he whispers. Louis grins and cranes his neck so he can whisper right back in Harry's ear that he wishes they could tell them they were still wrong.

'If anyone deserves those twenty quid, it's us for our great acting work. We've fooled our best mates! The world will be easy, peasy.'

"Stop flirting, let's get inside," Liam admonishes with a smile, and Louis can't help but crack up. He quickly presses a kiss to Harry's cheek and then tugs him along inside.

It's once they face the lady behind the desk that Louis starts to feel like a fraud. She's got piercing grey eyes, and clinically asks them for all the paperwork they had to bring. For one moment, her gaze lingers on Louis as she picks up on his accent, but then she just hands them a new clipboard of forms.

'There are rooms where you can change right over there, if you wish to do. Otherwise, please proceed to Hall 3, which will be on your left-hand side down the hallway,' she instructs them as soon as they hand in the final forms and pay the fee.

Just before Harry's about to follow after Liam and Niall to the room where they'll be married, Louis pulls him towards the changing rooms.

"You have 2 minutes, you horny bastards," Niall cackles with delight as Liam apologises profusely to all the other people mulling about.

A little flushed, Harry seeks out Louis' eyes. 'Why'd you pull me aside?'

"Just wanted to give you this," he rummages around in his pocket, before pulling out two bowties in matching shades of cyan. Louis doesn't know why he's so nervous, and why his hands feel so clammy as he explains his thought-process to his best friend in the entire world. "I know it's not exactly a colour-coordinated wedding, but I thought maybe this would somehow, I don't know - "

'It's perfect,' Harry interrupts him, wrapping his arms around Louis tightly. 'Thank you so much,' he mumbles into Louis' neck, and Louis probably shouldn't be half as charmed as he is.

"Of course," he replies, slightly surprised to find that Harry's eyes are red-rimmed as he pulls away.

Concerned, he can't help but want to check if he really wants to go through with it all. It earns him a wet laugh in return, as he gets pushed out of the changing room.

'Course I wanna go through with this, Lou. Can't imagine my life without you.'

"Well thank fucking God, cause the registrar is here. She was already assuming it was Niall and I that were getting married," Liam complains, motioning for them to hurry up.

Louis rolls his eyes and shrugs, 'would that be so bad, now?'

"Do you think I wanna get married to that fart machine? Hell no," Liam protests as they enter the hall.

Niall frowns. 'I heard that! I object!'

There's a lady standing in the middle of the room, trying desperately to hold her smile it seems. Louis already likes her.

"Ah, so there's the actual couple, then. Harry Edward Styles and Louis William Tomlinson?" She asks, before motioning for the two of them to sit down.

"Let's get started and get you two married!"

* * *

Weirdly enough, the ceremony itself feels both excruciatingly long and incredibly short all at the same time. It's probably due to the fact Louis' somewhat afraid of what comes next.

Everything will change. Even if they only did this so things would stay the same.

Before he knows it, she's asking them if they've brought their rings. Liam jumps up and hands two simple bands over. Little does he know that Harry and Louis had gotten them at the flee market just the other weekend. They both chose a ring they'd like themselves, but part of Louis wonders what ring Harry would've chosen for him - if given the chance.

He guesses he'll never know. His future husband will get that honour, he supposes.

"Is it official? Can they kiss? Can I film this?" Niall asks excitedly once they've exchanged rings and vows, completely foregoing any type of protocol that was established by their registrar Doris. She just shakes her head in defeat and motions for Harry and Louis to go ahead.

"I now pronounce you, husband and husband. Congratulations, you may kiss."

Louis grins widely, Harry mirroring his smile. There's a strange sense of relief what with her saying these words, and knowing that they did it - friends hollering in the back, makes it much less weird to lean in and press his lips to Harry's. 

And while it's odd to kiss Harry like this, to know what his lips feel like ( a little chapped, probably from biting his lip all day for the last couple of days) and taste like (vanilla and mint, probably from his chapstick), it's not half as odd as he'd expected.

In a weird way, it almost feels ... normal.

The plan was to keep it short and sweet, but even if that hadn't been their intention, Louis can't fight the smile that's threatening to take over his face. He ends up pulling away just so he can actually laugh, chuckling as he glance back at Niall and Liam.

'We made it,' he says breathlessly, staring at a bright-eyed Harry who echoes his words, before they both dissolve into giggles.

* * *

Niall and Liam insist that they should take wedding pictures, which is significantly more awkward than the ceremony Harry and Louis just sat through. Of course, it wouldn’t be, if they were actually together. But since that’s not the case, being asked by your mates to kiss very seriously, is a little foreign for the two of them.

‘Oh come on, you just got _married_, just – be passionate! Don’t be shy – it’s just us, and another 20 people who’re passing by. Don’t let that get in the way of love,’ Niall eggs them on, to which Louis just raises his middle finger.

Harry giggles, and engulfs Louis’ hand in his own, pushing it down slowly while he entwines their fingers instead.

Niall feigns a puking noise, earning himself a slap on the head by Liam. “Let them be, they just got married.”

He pauses.

“God, I can’t believe you’re actually married. I’m so happy for you guys, but also – bloody hell. That’s serious, mate.”

It is. Louis knows, and he feels a small pang of guilt that they’ve fallen into marriage in such an unconventional and irresponsible way. Or at least – not for the right reasons, he supposes.

Suddenly, with the curious eyes of their friends on them, Louis feels much more self-conscious about their interactions. He’s very aware of their hand-holding, and how his sweaty palms are rubbing against Harry’s.

Should he let go? Or is it normal to keep on holding hands this long? He just isn't sure - it's been quite long since he had a serious relationship. He left that behind in the US as well, years ago.

Thankfully, Harry seems to sense his discomfort, as he untangles their hands to instead sling his arm around Louis' shoulders. Less clammy, and still couple-y. In fact, they used to walk around like that before all this too. Before they were married. God, that sounds so odd.

"Come on, let's go have lunch somewhere. Lou and I will pay."

Liam hoots. 'The Tomlinson-Styles' are paying, or is it Styles-Tomlinson? Tomlinson? Styles?'

"Tomlinson-Styles," Louis answers for the both of them, as they make their way to a nearby pub.

‘It’s funny,’ Niall starts, cocking his head to the side. 'You don't really seem all that different.'

Louis takes another bite of the fries, eyeing Niall warily. He's not sure where the conversation is going, and he's also not sure how to handle it. When he glances to Harry, he already finds him staring back at him. His cheeks are ruddy red, but Louis' not sure whether that's from the temperature inside the pub, the adrenaline rush, or embarrassment.

"Why'd it be different?" Harry wonders out loud, offering Louis some ketchup to dunk his fries in.

He shrugs. 'Dunno, really. I guess now that it's out in the open and you're like, fully married - I was half-expecting you two to just be all over each other.'

Louis looks up at that, half-alarmed. Niall has a point, and it's one they hadn't really thought out that well. He isn't sure what Harry is and isn't okay with in terms of intimacy, even though they've always been pretty affectionate towards each other.

It's different when it involves swapping spit.

Liam immediately shakes his head. "Mate, they've essentially been a married couple for ages now, of course it seems to us as if nothing's changed."

'I just want them to know that if they want to slobber all over each other, then I'd allow it on their wedding day, Liam!'

Louis snorts. "Nialler, trust me when I say I don't need your permission to slobber all over him."

'Fine, point taken. But at least tell us when and how this even happened. I feel like not even our most sensible Liam has been asking these sensible questions. I need answers,' Niall pleads.

"Yeah, I'd pegged you as the romantic type Tommo - not someone for a rushed city hall wedding."

He should've known Liam would ask him that. Because he's right. Normally, Louis very much is the romantic type. He loves all the cliches, and he'd love a big wedding most of all. He feels a small pang of guilt that he's lying to his best mates about such an important event in his life, denying himself the novelty of a first (and hopefully, last) wedding. But, it is what it is.

'You do weird things for love. I just -' he stops and makes sure to look over at Harry, smiling softly. 'We both just knew. Probably because of the fact we'd been friends so long.'

"Well, the two of you have never been just friends," Liam adds with a smirk, and Louis can't deny that. They've always had quite a special connection.

'True. And then, we just want to make the most of it now. Together. So the next logical step was get married and ensure we'll at least get to stay together in the future.'

"Quite dramatic, and impulsive," Niall concludes. "Sounds just like the two of you."

Harry objects with a drawn out "heeeeey", but Niall just cackles and throws some fries at him. 'You know it's true!'

"Doesn't mean you have to rub it in our faces. Let us enjoy our wedding day, you monster!' Louis scolds him with a feigned stern expression. Harry falls back into his side, laughing as he grabs onto Louis' wrist in an attempt to steady himself in the booth.

Apparently his scolding was a little louder than he intended, because not five minutes later does a champagne bottle arrives - on the house, to celebrate their union.

"We should've done this ages ago; maybe we can wheedle some free cake from Mary down the street as well," Louis whispers into Harry's ear, who chuckles in response.

Louis waits eagerly for Harry's actual reply, but it never comes, as he's interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

It's his mum.

Immediately, panic rises in Louis' chest. He knows she can't know, that it's impossible for her to know. He also knows that he can't pick up the phone and pretend everything's fine. So he lets it ring out, which is something he almost never does. The only thing he's just bought himself is a delay of an hour - max.

His expression must be quite clear, because Harry immediately frowns and asks him what's wrong. "You've gone all pale, mate," Niall adds, clearly concerned as well.

'Nothing, it's nothing. I just realised - we still need to tell our parents. And they won't be pleased.'

Harry grimaces. “Nope.”

‘Well, best to not think about that for another hour then. Niall and I will pay for your drinks, I’m afraid that’s the best wedding gift we can give you on our student budget,’ Liam offers with a sympathetic smile.

* * *

Perhaps it’s not the best idea to tell your mum through a video of the ceremony that you’re actually married. Nevertheless, it’s exactly what Louis and Harry end up doing. Maybe because they’re a little bit tipsy, but also, this way they can just get it over with as soon as they’re back at their place – like ripping off a band-aid.

They press send at the same time. Almost simultaneously, they receive first texts of disbelief and wonderment, followed by stern voice calls that are full of tough love. Louis has met Harry’s parents before. They live quite close to Manchester, and so it had been nice to spend Christmas with Harry there once.

It’s quite different for Louis, whose mum has seen Harry through Skype – but never in real life. They’re both quite emotional over the fact he’s gone and married someone she hasn’t even been able to give a proper hug.

Still, what surprises Louis the most is how no one seems to _actually_ be surprised. He wonders what it is they see that he’s somehow missed all these years.

After they’ve both taken the time to inform their families of the news, they decide to upload one of the pictures Niall had taken on their social media.

While the pressure is also high, it feels a little less daunting to let the world know, than it was telling their parents. Those are the people that matter. He’s interested by what people in general will think, but it won’t be as devastating of a blow if they were to think they’re crazy.

Also because it is of course true – they _are_ crazy for doing this.

There’s not so much negativity, as there is a sense of just overall bewilderment at the fact they’re not just a couple – they’re also _married_. 

Hell, Louis himself still needs to grasp what it means as well.

“So, husband.”

Harry makes a face at that. ‘What do you think of spouse? Isn’t that better?’

“It sounds a bit like spider and mouse combined, so can’t say I’m convinced,” Louis argues with a smile, then adds. “my dear spouse, how are you feeling?”

A yawn escapes Harry as he stretches his arms, and Louis’ never felt more in tune with his, well, husband. ‘Tired. Just gonna make it an early night, I guess. We can figure out the rest tomorrow.’

“No going back now,” Louis mumbles, then reaches out to give Harry a hug. “Sleep tight, love.”

‘Goodnight,’ Harry

Just like any other day.


	4. T plus 3 months

The first few days are hectic, with news of their nuptials spreading quickly throughout the entire campus it seems. Apparently, getting married at their age is extraordinary or just plain 'reckless'.

Either way, many ask to see the ring, then coo over the piece of metal as if it’s the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen. Louis doesn't want to ruin the illusion by showing them the inscription “to my Rose", which clearly means it once belonged to someone else.

But after the initial interest has waned off, things almost go back to normal. Aside from the occasional question about where and when they'll go on honeymoon, people seem to have accepted it just fine.

The problem is that even Louis himself forgets him and Harry are supposed to be married. It's been about a month or so, and graduation day is creeping ever closer – which means he wants to blow off some steam.

He’s fine at first, remembering to sit on Harry’s lap and press kisses all over his neck during the pre-drinks at Niall’s apartment. He’s found that to be one of the few, yet very effective measures to make people look away for a bit. Apparently they consider it too intimate.

Which Louis doesn’t really care about, almost finds it convenient, because he loves a good neck kiss and it's not like him and Harry had many boundaries to begin with. Just the other day he sucked a hickey into his skin, and then they had a laugh about the disturbed looks they got from friends.

The problem starts with him wanting to dance, and Harry wanting to sit down for a bit and just watch. Slightly irritated, Louis still decides to go off by himself and just sway to the beat, thumping bass making him feel like he’s floating and vibrating all at the same time.

“Heard you’re taken these days,” someone suddenly whispers as they shuffle up close to Louis, arm curled around his waist.

With a giggle, he dislodges himself and twists around so he can look at Luke properly. He’s wearing a black shirt with the logo of the club embroidered onto it, which stretches deliciously across his chest. Teasingly, he sticks out his hand and wiggles his fingers. ‘See for yourself.’

Luke’s eyes drop to Louis’ hand, inspecting the ring, then sighs in defeat. “Damn. That happened real fast.’

Louis shrugs and takes a step back. “When you know, you know,” he says and flashes Luke another smile.

‘I figured there was always something just below the surface between you and that roommate of yours. Happy for you, though. Glad he manned up.’

It’s probably meant to be nice, and congratulatory, but all it does is irk Louis, so he nods politely before turning around and heading straight for the bar.

He’s not drunk by any means, but he’s definitely starting to get buzzed, except right now it’s the wrong kind. There’s annoyance at Harry and Luke rushing through his veins. Harry for not dancing with him, and Luke for making him very much aware of everything he’s going to miss out on for who knows how long.

Deciding to be irresponsible, he asks for a round of shots and a bottle of vodka, then brings them over to where Harry’s still sitting. He’s brooding, Louis can tell just from the way in which he’s hunching his shoulders – even in the dark club.

“What’s got you down, petal?”

Slightly amused by Louis’ use of yet another new nickname, Harry’s frown melts away a bit.

‘Nothing. ‘s that vodka?’ He asks, scooting over to make room for Louis to sit down as well.

He shoots Harry a look. “Obviously. Now let’s do some shots,” he exclaims, promptly throwing back another.

Louis stays for a bit, laughing and drinking with Harry and his friends. But then he’s off again, this time much less coordinated than before. First to the bathroom, then back onto the dancefloor.

And it's when he’s three sheets to the wind, that he forgets. Louis smirks at the man who’s been eyeing him up from across the bar for about ten minutes now.

He flutters his eyelashes in what he _knows_ will get him his way, and he’s about to go over there when he feels a tug on his sleeve.

Harry clears his throat, “I don’t think so, _husband.”_

It takes Louis way longer than it should to understand why Harry is ruining his fun. He blames it on the alcohol.

When it does finally dawn on him, he also realises how it must look to their friends that he's opposing Harry for coming between him and someone flirting with him. 'On a scale of one to ten, in how much trouble do you suppose I am right now?'

Harry grins a little, hand encircling Louis' wrist a little tighter now, thumb moving back and forth over his pulse point. It's weirdly reassuring.

"Not much trouble. You're drunk," he starts, and Louis wants to protest that that's really not an excuse at all for cheating. And also, Louis might be a bit of a flirt - he's never cheated and he never will; he knows that for sure. He'd never do that to his partner.

"Just like them, which means they probably failed to notice. If they do, whatever. We can say it was a game and you were trying to make me jealous," Harry continues.

It must be the alcohol talking, because Louis can suddenly hear himself replying, 'well, did it work then?'

He seems to take Harry by surprise as well, who just stares at him for a beat, then glances back at where their friends are sitting. "Well. Our friends definitely seem to think it's worked. They're all watching. What do you propose we do?"

Louis scrunches his nose. 'Funny you'd say propose. That's what got us here in the first place.'

He wiggles his hand loose, and instead pulls Harry a little closer by his shirt. He narrows his eyes as he experimentally swipes a finger across Harry's lips. 'Are you wearing chapstick?'

"Only one way to find out," he replies cheekily.

'Alright, let's give them a show they deserve, then. I hope your lips taste good,' Louis decides, then leans up on his tiptoes to kiss him proper.

The first touch of lips is not much different from the previous pecks they've exchanged in order to appease their friends and keep up appearances. Yet he's still getting familiar with all the little grooves and wrinkles of his lips. This time they're much less chapped - probably because Louis has been sneakily hiding lipbalm in all of Harry's bags.

The mapping out of Harry's lips, this time tasting a bit too much like strawberry to Louis' personal liking, is already an experience in and of itself.

But this time around, the goal is not to appear sweet and in love. The goal's to appear passionate, and riled up.

And so they kick it up a notch. Harry wraps an arm around Louis, who promptly detaches for a second just to place Harry's hand right on his bum. What can he say? He knows it's his asset, and he doesn't mind it. Besides, they both know it'd be odd if Harry didn't hold him right there, particularly as a self-proclaimed ass-man.

Just like that, they're kissing again - open-mouthed now, as Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. He almost giggles as he realises for a short second that he's actually making out with his best mate, but he manages to keep it in. Instead, he's distracted by the utter excellence of Harry's tongue as he dips it into Louis' mouth. His fingers try to find purchase in the hairs at the nape of Harry's neck, pulling on them in an attempt to either push Harry closer, or pull him away to catch a breath instead - he's not sure himself.

His body makes the decision for him, when Harry squeezes his butt ever so slightly, making Louis gasp into his mouth.

It's good.

Too good, really, he realises as he finds himself canting his hips and grinding against Harry in an attempt to increase the friction. There's something exhilarating about riling each other up like this in front of their friends - just to see if they can push their act to the next level. Louis is just getting into it, when someone obnoxiously steps into their personal bubble and disturbs their surroundings by shining a bright light on them. "Married people clearly can still get it!"

Annoyed, Louis pulls away and glares at whoever dared to interrupt them right when things were getting a bit more interesting. He immediately flashes middle finger once he sees it's just their friends trying to get a good close-up of them.

"Film this," Harry says, then sticks out his tongue and licks a fat stripe up Louis' neck. It shouldn't be funny - it should be gross, and yet Louis finds himself laughing loudly before pressing a quick kiss to Harry's temple as he rests his head on Louis' shoulder. His body shakes with laughter, and it makes Louis vibrate in his skin.

They go home a while later, once Niall has once again managed to fall and Liam has decided they've all turned into public health hazards.

Harry and Louis end up sharing a cab with just Raphael, a fellow aerospace engineering student that Louis started hanging out with this year. He's apparently not all that happy about it, as he grumps about having to share with the horny couple.

"I'm not horny," Harry says indignantly, motioning at himself as he steps into the cab with a huff, pulling Louis next to him. "Do I look horny to you?"

Raphael groans. 'I don't need to know what you look like when horny, Harry.'

"Do I look horny to you?" Harry pivots to Louis, who just laughs at Harry's flushed appearance. He's a little sweaty, and his hair's all messed up from where Louis was holding onto it just minutes ago.

God, they really went for it in there.

'Ugh, I bet you're the type of couple who laugh during sex too,' he grumbles.

Louis and Harry just look at each other. They're not having any sex, let alone laughing sex any time soon. It's so far off the mark, that they just crack up all over again to Raphael's drunk chagrin.

"You've no idea, mate," Louis chuckles. "No idea."

* * *

With just one more week to go, Louis is in the middle of working on his dissertation’s references when he receives a disturbing message from Harry, urging him to call him “asapppp!!!”

Quietly, he gets up and motions to Raphael that he’s stepping out for a bit, pointing at his phone. It’s almost been two months now since Harry and he got married, yet it still takes him by surprise some days when he sees “Hazza” in his phone with a ring emoji next to it. It’s a terribly basic name, but it’s also the most true to form. It’ll do, for now.

‘Thank fuck for calling me! Houston, we have a problem. Well, two problems, more like,’ Harry starts, sounding panicky and out of breath over the phone.

“Okay, calm down – take a breath and then tell me what problems we need to solve.”

He can hear Harry forcing himself to inhale and exhale once slowly, before starting to talk again. ‘So. First of all, my mom has decided to come and visit us. Today. Which means we need to convert your room into a guestroom in under 3 hours. Second of all, we got a letter from the Immigration Office.’

Harry pauses for a second. ‘Well, you did, but I opened it too. We’re married now, we share a bank account, it’s fine, right?’

Louis counts to ten in his head, then speaks slowly. “We’ll talk about it later, I suppose – just tell me what it says, then.”

‘They’ll come by as well to essentially see if everything checks out. So we need to overhaul our apartment a bit. I know you’re finishing up your dissertation, and I’m so sorry to call you about this, but - I need help,’ Harry rushes out. It’s a sign in and of itself that he’s serious.

“Okay. I’ll – I’ll try and wrap this up and get back home soon.”

There isn’t really anything else he can do, and they’ll have to sort this out one way or another. Raphael pulls a face as he makes to leave. “Marital trouble?”

Louis shakes his head. ‘In-law trouble.’

“Good luck with that, man,” Raphael says good-naturedly, patting Louis on the back before letting him leave.

As he makes his way to their apartment, Louis starts to get nervous. He hadn’t really spent too much time thinking about the fact he’s now got an extended family. To be fair, he has deliberately not _let _himself think about it either.

The thing is, Louis has met Harry’s mum before, and she’s really lovely. She reminds him a bit of his own mum, and that’s exactly the danger. He’s terribly afraid of lying to his mum. Every conversation he has with her, he’s scared he might end up spilling everything. Louis suppose that the only thing that keeps him from doing so, is his pride. He doesn’t want to have to tell her he fucked up his own visa procedures, and he doesn’t want to have to tell her that her son is a fraud – is gaming the system by faking a marriage. He doesn’t want to disappoint her.

And so he completely understands the whirlwind of stress that greets him as he unlocks the front door. “Oh thank fuck, you’re here! Can you please gather up your stuff and start dumping them in my room?”

Harry greets him with a peck on the lips. It’s grown into somewhat of a habit, now. What’s not part of the habit, is Harry thrusting an empty trash bag into his hands. Louis assumes he’s supposed to use it for his own stuff.

‘Fine,’ he calls out as Harry speeds away to continue scrubbing their kitchen down. ‘But I’m not putting my stuff in a fucking garbage bag, Harold! That’s where I draw the line!’

As he’s standing in his own room, collecting socks off of the floor, he suddenly wonders why he’s the one who has to move. Not that it matters now, since Harry’s clearly already started the process anyways. Besides, if he’s being honest, Harry’s mattress is ten times nicer and more comfortable than his own. His back will probably be very grateful.

It’s sobering to realise how much crap he’s managed to collect over the last three years, and how sentimental he apparently is over all of it. He knows Harry was hoping for more of a Marie Kondo technique, but Louis finds that all of his trinkets bring him joy.

There’s a goofy little piglet that his sisters sent to him, and then there’s the tiny porcelain frog he found in a second-hand shop and gifted to Harry. He’s not sure either why it’s still ended up with him. He’s also got some vintage vinyl records and movie posters, of which he wants to throw away exactly none.

And so he finds himself just dumping everything in Harry’s room, filling it to the brim with knick-knacks he’s not ready to say goodbye to.

“You were supposed to only keep a few items, not everything,” Harry moans as he passes by, then comes back to inspect their shared room.

‘Well, this is supposed to be our shared space, so we should both only keep a few items, then,’ Louis argues, to which Harry merely huffs in response. ‘Yeah, didn’t think so.’

“Can you please clean the toilet while I do the bath?” Harry asks instead. Louis gathers it’s not so much a question, anyways.

* * *

He’s not sure how Harry did it, but their apartment looks like it belongs in a commercial by the time Anne arrives. It’s a bit of an odd moment, given that they’ve met before – but never in this capacity. Never with Louis as husband of her son, and so the jitters and nerves in back in full force.

As much as he’s told Harry he’ll totally play it cool, he can’t help but feel slightly proud and grateful of the fact Anne immediately comes up to hug him.

“I’m so happy you two got your act together,” she confides in Louis, smiling brightly before pulling away.

“I’m sure your mum also had words with you over the timing and all that, but as long as you are happy – I’m happy too,” she addresses to the two of them, as she wraps her arm around Harry’s waist.

‘I’m really happy, mum,’ Harry adds, eyes twinkling in the artificial hallway lighting.

Something stirs in Louis’ chest.

It’s there again when they’re laying in Harry’s bed – their bed, and he finds himself counting all the baby hairs on Harry’s chin. He really should shave them off, but it’s kind of cute to Louis how much he genuinely seems to care for the fact he’s at least able to grow them these days.

And it should be uncomfortable, or weird, maybe – to share a bed and pretend like it’s normal. But it feels like it _is_ normal, somehow. Or maybe, he just doesn’t want to admit to himself that he _wants_ it to be.

‘What are you doing, Lou. Go to sleep,’ Harry murmurs, not even bothering to open his eyes.

He whispers back, “can’t. Too keyed up still. What’d you think your mum thought of me?”

‘She likes you. Because she loves me and I love you. That hasn’t changed,’ Harry says decisively. It makes Louis’ heart beat a little faster.

“Do you think she’ll still like me once this is all over and she knows the truth?”

Harry opens his eyes and stares at Louis for a bit. ‘I think,’ he starts. ‘I think she’ll understand why we did it. If I ever tell her, that is. Might as well just be an early-career divorcé. D’you reckon that’d work in a Tinder bio?’

Louis giggles and gives Harry’s shoulder a push. Before he knows it, they’re snuggled together closely underneath their respective duvets. “Maybe in a year or so,” he suggests, sending them both off into another bout of laughter.

Louis falls asleep with a smile on his face, and warm feet without socks.

* * *

When Anne leaves three days later, mollified over their slight marriage-without-telling-anyone-least-of-all-parents-faux-pas, she makes sure to tell Louis that she’s so glad it’s him.

“The best marriages, relationships, really, are built on friendship. Don’t forget that,” she pauses and looks over at where Harry was standing behind Louis, arm wrapped around his waist. “And good sex, of course,” she stage-whispers, making Louis blush and Harry groan in embarrassment.

‘Mum, I did _not _need to know that,’ Harry whines, stepping forward to give her a hug and also to push her slightly out the door. ‘Love you, see you.’

They both wave, until the cab she’d called is out of sight. Immediately, Harry turns to Louis to apologise. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowns. ‘Don’t be, she’s just a mum trying to embarrass you a little. Part of the game. My mum will probably do the exact same thing but on steroids at our graduation ceremony. I just hope she meant it when she said she liked me.’

Harry grins and rolls his eyes.

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

Once they’re back inside, Louis glances at the guest room and stalls. ‘Hey, uh. Do you think – should I move back? Or –‘

“Oh! I mean, you could, but I was thinking it might make more sense to just – stick to this? I’m not a bad bed-sharer, am I?” Harry wonders, uncertainty evident in his voice.

‘You’re not,’ Louis rushes to explain. ‘I’ll happily sleep with you – I mean, stay in your bedroom. I was just wondering whether _you_ still wanted _me _there, when it’s technically not necessary. Just my stuff is enough to fool most people.’

Harry nervously scratches his neck. “Let’s just – to be safe, yeah? I just want to make sure we’re the most legitimate fake married couple out there, you know?”

Louis nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

The only little hiccup in their plan that he hadn’t considered, is morning wood.

Louis is exhausted, having pulled two all-nighters in a row to finish his dissertation. And yet, somehow his body has decided that now’s a great time to want to get off.

And being hard isn’t exactly new for either of them, of course. What is, however, new about the situation – is that Louis wakes up pressed up against Harry in bed, arms slung tightly across his waist.

He immediately scrambles out of bed and locks himself into the bathroom, willing his hard cock to soften. Once he’s okay again, he tiptoes back into the bedroom, in hopes of not disturbing Harry. Maybe he didn’t even notice.

By the way Harry giggles from underneath the duvet, he definitely noticed. Louis sighs, and starts rummaging through the closet. The great pro of combining their rooms, is that Louis gets to steal Harry’s clothing whenever he wants, really.

‘Stop giggling, you little shit. We all get hard sometimes. We just don’t all get off,’ he raises his eyebrows in the mirror, then smiles at himself.

“You don’t need to hide in the bathroom if it’s so normal, though.’

‘You don’t need to giggle, if it’s so normal,’ Louis fires back.

God, he needs to get laid. It’s not happening anytime soon, though. He sighs to himself. Hopefully he’ll get a good job offer that’ll include a visa – then he can go back to doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with whomever he wants.

‘I hear there’s a party on campus today – we going to that?’ Harry wonders, abandoning their topic for what it is, and rolling over in bed so he can look at Louis.

“Was thinking yes,” Louis replies as he rolls up the sleeves of one of Harry’s shirts. “Blow off some much-needed steam.”

Harry hums, then rolls back over, facing away from Louis. It’s a little bit rude, if you were to ask Louis, but who knows. Maybe he had a bad nightmare, or just didn’t sleep very well.

‘Ok. Well, I’m having breakfast with Ni – be back later, babe, alright?’

He doesn’t even realise he called Harry ‘babe’, until he’s already out the door.


	5. T plus 6 months

They fuck up around month six, literally.

All the talks with immigration have gone well so far, their friends are perhaps a tad too supportive, and Louis' mum has booked her plane tickets for graduation. Louis has taken to calling Harry either ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ in public, or just ‘H’ like he used to. In a weird way, that almost feels more intimate than ‘babe’. In return, Louis is now ‘darling’ or ‘love’, or just plain ‘Lou’ – the same nickname he’s had for Louis since they met.

Aside from Louis’ mum booking her own plane tickets, she’s also paid for a set of his own. Their parents had wanted to be involved in their wedding still somehow. Once they’d gotten a sniff of the fact that they hadn’t yet gone on honeymoon – they’d decided to gift it to them. Now that Louis has all but basically graduated, and Harry has finished his final exams for the term, it seems like the perfect time as well. And while Harry and Louis feel terrible about it, but also kind of do want to go on a free holiday, they settle for a week on the Irish coast.

Niall’s delighted, their parents are delighted, and Harry and Louis get to amp up their love on social media as well for anyone who might want to see whether or not they’re truly happily married and in love.

However, if Louis is being honest, he’s mostly excited about the prospect of having the opportunity to actually treat himself a little bit. His mum may have paid for their hotel, and Harry’s mum for the tickets – Louis has booked them a whiskey tasting in Dalkey.

“We should take some Instagram photos,” Harry proposes as they settle into the bar. They’ve spent the day exploring the city, but Louis is more than ready to drink some good alcohol and enjoy the rest of their night without having to worry about university for once. Or his visa, for that matter.

He can’t help but grin as Harry asks someone else to take a photo of the two of them, rather than just taking a selfie. His stubborn refusal to use the front-facing camera continues to amaze Louis.

They pose with their glass of whiskey in hand, leaning into one another. When he sees the picture on Harry’s phone, he’s only mildly surprised by how real it all looks. Harry isn’t even looking at the camera, he’s looking at Louis.

“Alright, now that that’s done – cheers! To our honeymoon,” Harry exclaims. Apparently he says it a little louder than intended, because within minutes the bartender returns to say that they’d love to offer them a bottle of whiskey on the house to celebrate, as well as a free round of beer.

Which is a lovely, and incredibly nice gesture. The problem is, that on top of their whiskey tasting – they’ll be absolutely smashed by the end of the night. Louis knows this, and he _knows_ Harry knows it too.

And yet, how could they do anything but accept? Of course they’ll have the free alcohol.

Five glasses of whiskey to taste later, followed by a pint, Louis is feeling _pretty_ buzzed. He smiles lazily at Harry, who’s poking his tongue out and into the beer glass in a very focused, inelegant attempt at swiping off some of the froth that had stuck to the sides.

‘Baby, what are you doing?’ Louis tries to whisper, as he wraps his hand around Harry’s wrist, guiding his arm to set the glass down again.

Harry shrugs, his eyes unfocused. “Just wanted to get some cream.”

Louis blinks, willing his mind not to go where it is currently headed. It’s too late. He’s started envisioning Harry licking him instead of the glass, and he kind of wants to give into it.

They’re newlyweds, they should be all over each other. At least, that’s what Louis tells himself when he stumbles out of his barstool straight into the open space between Harry’s legs.

‘Can I have a taste,’ he flutters his eyelashes at Harry, who suddenly seems to have found his focus again as he scans Louis’ face up and down.

“Yeah, course you can, darling,” he breathes out against Louis’ lips, and just like that they’re kissing. It’s not just an innocent kiss either, as they lick into each other mouths, Louis trying to steal the taste right off of Harry’s tongue.

And Louis _knows _it’s not real, but that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy it. Harry’s a phenomenal kisser, instinctively seems to get exactly how much pressure he should apply and when to switch things up.

Louis’ hands grip Harry’s thighs as he tries to get some leverage, but it’s not enough. He shuffles even closer, one hand sliding up to tug at Harry’s shirt a bit so the space between them keeps getting smaller.

A loud cough interrupts them just as Louis’ tongue is teasing Harry’s. The owner seems more amused than bothered by their antics, but informs them it’s time to take it elsewhere either way.

Belatedly, Louis realises she probably didn’t mean another bar, she just meant their hotel room. Nevertheless, Harry and him have ended up at a club, bottle of fancy whiskey in hand as they grind to the music that’s blasting from the speakers.

Harry’s face is flushed, hair bouncing all over the place, big smile as he attempts to move his hips to the beat. He’s failing miserably, which is why Louis giggles and puts Harry’s hands on his bum as he puts his own on Harry’s hips. It forces Harry to follow whatever Louis is doing, and well – it’s working.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he hears Harry’s ragged breath ghost over his neck, making his skin prickle from the intensity.

The thing is, it shouldn’t be hot. Harry trying to grind on him shouldn’t be something Louis finds himself feeling attracted to.

And yet here he is.  
  


Everything’s hazy, and he might be drunk, but all he wants in that moment is to be even closer to Harry. When he changes the angle ever so slightly of their slow-grind, he realises he’s not the only one who’s incredibly turned on. Louis can tell Harry’s hard, and it only serves to turn him on even more.

With a deliberate grind of his hips, he arches his neck and reconnects their mouths in a soaring kiss. Harry’s hand squeezes his butt cheek, then moves upwards to slip under Louis’ shirt, caressing his hipbone from where his jeans meet his bare skin.

He pulls away then, tilting his head to the side to allow for Harry nuzzling his neck. “Let’s – let’s go back to the hotel room,” Louis gasps, desperately trying to supress a moan as Harry’s hand ghosts over his jeans-clad cock.

He moves back to kiss Louis’ lips, nodding as he goes. ‘Sounds good.’

The entire ride back to the hotel room feels like torture to Louis, as they can tell by the glare from the driver that he didn’t enjoy witnessing Louis stick his tongue down Harry’s throat. Giggling out an apology, Harry hands the man an extra big tip once they arrive in front of their hotel.

“So sorry for the inconvenience, sir – we just got married!”

‘And are super horny,’ Louis adds cheerfully, then tugs Harry away by his sleeve as they laugh over Mr. Grumpy.

Once they enter the hotel room, all their laughter immediately fades away. The room looks beautiful – just not at all what it looked like when they left that morning.

Louis rushes over to the bed, picking up the card that was left right there. “In honour of your Honeymoon, we’ve decided to give you a special Newlyweds treat. Enjoy!”

He reads it out loud, then turns to Harry with wide eyes. ‘What do you think it is? The treat?’

“I guess it’s the additional rose petals, yeah, and the bottle of champagne,” Harry guesses. His hand’s back on Louis’ shoulder, creeping up to his neck. It feels a little possessive, and Louis can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it.

He turns back around in Harry’s hold, who immediately drops his hand a little so he can finger at the material of Louis’ shirt. It’s slow, and torturous and _so_ nice.

“This okay?” He asks, ghosting over the hem.

Louis nods slowly, moving his own hands towards Harry’s trousers. He stills right before touching him, seeking out eye-contact first. ‘Go ahead,’ he whispers.

Breathless, Louis proceeds to undo the button of Harry’s jeans, unzipping them so he can push them down.

His eyes rake over Harry’s legs. They’re long and tattooed and lovely. “You’ve got Bambi legs,” he blurts out, raising his arms as Harry tries to pull of Louis’ shirt, giggling as he goes.

It dies down once his shirt is off. ‘You’ve got the sexiest nipples, what the fuck Lou? Why have I never noticed how hot they are?’ Harry all but moans, biting his lip hungrily as he stares at Louis’ naked chest.

Louis snorts. It’s ridiculous, and he really shouldn’t be all that impressed by Harry’s behaviour. And yet, realistically, he knows he’s gagging for it – anything. “Cause I don’t walk around with my shirt unbuttoned like you do,” he retorts.

It’s exactly the right thing to say, because in less than 3 seconds is Louis on his back in bed, staring up at a very naked Harry now.

Louis smiles mischievously, eyes slowly traveling south so they can take in Harry’s cock while he undoes his own pants. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind can he hear a tiny, miniscule voice go: “This is a really bad idea.”

But that voice is drowned out by lust, want and pleasure as soon as Harry wraps a fist around Louis’ cock, making him gasp for air. 'God, you look fucking beautiful, surrounded by rose petals,' he says as he gets Louis off. 

It’s not until the next morning, that the judgmental voice returns.

* * *

Louis yawns and stretches his arms. He feels tired, in a good way – satisfied and fulfilled. For a hot second, he thinks it’s due to the fact he’s on holiday. The next second, his arm touches Harry’s chest and it dawns on him, memories from last night flooding to the front of his mind.

They fucked. Or well, they got off together. Louis now knows what Harry’s cock looks like. Hard.

He’s not sure if he’s feeling a bit nauseated by the sheer anxiety of having ruined his most valuable friendship in just one night, or if he’s just still a little bit hungover.

He wants to blame the alcohol, but that means labelling what they did a bad decision. And while he knows it isn’t smart – he also wouldn’t want to label it a regret. He’s had a dry spell ever since Luke, which means his cock hasn’t had any attention aside from his own hand for over 9 months.

Getting to see some action was just what he needed. What he didn’t need, was getting it by hooking up with his best friend.

“Stop freaking out,” a deep voice grumbles into the pillow.

‘I’m not freaking out,’ Louis protests. Even he can tell by the sound of his own voice that it’s a lie. He’s most definitely freaking out.

Harry sighs and rolls over. The glistering ring on his finger catches Louis’ eye, reminding him all over again what’s at stake.

He rubs his eyes, then stares up at Louis with an unimpressed look. Uneasily, Louis looks away and tries again. ‘There’s nothing to freak out about. We had a bit of a drunken hook-up. Doesn’t mean anything. Shouldn’t do it again.’

Harry’s quiet, then turns away again. Louis takes it as his cue to get up and go have a shower. He’s about to open the bathroom door, when Harry calls after him. “We could help each other out,” Harry calls.

It’s so quick, and so soft, that Louis almost doesn’t hear it, thinks he must’ve misheard it instead.

‘What?’

“I said, we could help each other out.”

When Louis doesn’t reply this time around, still questioningly staring back at Harry, he chuckles to himself then continues to talk.

“Like. We obviously can’t really sleep with anyone, but we’re both people who crave that intimacy from time to time. Obviously I find you attractive, and you me. From what I remember, the sex was pretty good too – so why not just allow ourselves to hook up from time to time?”

Louis knows it’s a bad idea. He _knows_. But he’s also a weak man who’s still sex-stupid from a blissful orgasm the night before, combined with a spectacular hangover.

‘Why not?’ Louis finds himself repeating with a shrug. No big deal. It’s no big deal at all that he and his fake-man have decided to become friends with benefits on the side as well.

No big deal. At all.

* * *

Except it is, because each time they sleep together, Louis catches his own eyes lingering more than they should. Contrary to his previous fuckbuddies, he constantly craves _more_.

When they’re with friends, he can’t help but gravitate towards Harry. And he wonders if he’s always done that, or if it’s different now. He can’t tell anymore, and it’s terrifying that he doesn’t know how to separate lover from friend – doesn’t know where the love for one ends and the other begins.

When they end up in bed together, he wakes up wrapped in Harry’s arms more than once.

It’s a little frightening to him, how well they slot together like that.

It’s bad, is what it is. The more he gets to explore Harry’s body, the more he’s able to map out Harry’s heart, the more he can feel this ache building up in his chest.

He’s constantly aching to touch Harry, and to tell Harry whatever comes to mind. It’s scary, and terrifying, once he realises that whatever charade they’ve got going on – it’ll end.

And once it ends, he won’t get to notice all the small things about him that he’s started to keep track of, like hidden little treasures.

He notices that Harry’s got sleep wrinkles in the morning, and puffy, sleep-crusted eyes, and that Louis still wants to give him a blowjob to wake him up properly.

He notices that Harry’s got a mole on his left butt cheek that’s a bit shaped like a turd emoji. It made tears stream down his face out of laughter once he spotted it and couldn’t unsee it anymore. He only stopped laughing when Harry flipped them over to fuck him instead.

He notices that Harry likes to kiss Louis’ nose. He lets him.

He notices that Harry’s got a tendency to frown whenever he speaks to his mum, as if he’s constantly worried as to how she’s doing. He makes sure to kiss all the fine lines that have started marring his skin there already.

He notices that Harry doesn’t really enjoy sleeping in as much as Louis does, but he stays to laze in bed with Louis anyways. Sometimes Louis will try and get up with him, so they can have breakfast together.

That’s how he knows he’s in too deep. They’ve complicated things, trying to stretch something temporary way beyond its limits, diving headfirst into grey, muddled waters, and now Louis is in deep trouble.

* * *

“Oh god, I’ve fallen in love with my husband,’ Louis whines, falling back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. He’s hanging out at Liam’s, trying out a couple of new video games that he’s bought.

Liam chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t you realise how ridiculous that sounds? I’d hope you’re in love with him – you’re bloody well married to each other.”

‘Plenty of people get married without love being ever part of the equation, Liam,’ Louis snipes, though there’s no heat behind it.

“Sorry mate, can’t offer you advice on this one.”

‘Married life sucks. You think you just put a ring on it, and then everything’s solved. Newsflash – it’s not,’ Louis complains as he twists his ring around his finger once, twice, three times.

Liam snorts, then picks up another videogame and holds it up for Louis to inspect, before popping it into his Xbox. “Somehow, judging by the ridiculous amount of lovebites on your neck, I think married life sucks in a different way than you’re making it appear right now.”

Flushed, Louis pulls at the collar of his shirt. He should do something about that, maybe tell Harry off – even though he kind of enjoys the possessiveness it displays.

As twisted as it is, it makes their relationship feel more … real.

Nevertheless, he’s now actively applying for jobs and with his mum arriving soon too for his graduation ceremony, he does need to look presentable. He assumes it doesn't include obvious hickeys in his neck.

‘Fuck off,’ Louis retorts, smiling down at his controller.

Liam laughs. “See, there’s that smile again.” He pauses the game, then looks back at Louis with a more serious expression in his eyes. “Listen, mate. Whatever it is that’s got you thinking marriage sucks all of a sudden – Harry’s the one you should talk to. He’s your partner. You’re best friends. Always have been, even before you got married.”

He knows it’s true, and that he _should_ talk to Harry about it. So they can figure it out before it all gets out of hand, and Louis’ heart gets broken in the thick of it all, even though it’d kind of be his own fault. 

And that’s just it. It’s just so much easier to pretend. Louis wants to keep the fantasy alive a little while longer. Until he has a visa, is what he tells himself. His stomach twists as he thinks about it in such a purely transactional way, but at the end of the day – that’s the ugly truth.

He needs this marriage in order to stay.

He doesn’t deserve to want it too. 

* * *

And so, Louis’ logical solution is to create some distance between the two of them. Whenever Harry initiates intimacy, Louis pulls away. He claims he’s tired, or just not up for it. It hurts, but he tries to ignore the confused expression on Harry’s face as he rejects him over and over again.

They don’t have time to talk about it, or maybe they’re both just too stubborn to actually have that conversation. Nevertheless, Louis is very much aware of the strange atmosphere as he leaves for the airport to pick up his mum. Harry doesn’t even acknowledge him when he waves, spares him only a precursory glance before focusing back on his book. He tries not to feel too hurt by it.

It’s an exciting day, his mum coming over from the States for two weeks to spend time with him, watch him graduate, and get to know his husband. He’s been anxiously staring at the sliding doors at arrivals for over an hour, when he finally spots her.

Within seconds, he’s running towards Jay, so he can finally hug his mum for the first time since ages.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion as he can feel a tear roll down his face as well. She pulls him in an even tighter embrace, before letting go.

It’s only at second glance, that he realises she’s not alone. Dread settles in his stomach as he sees who’s somehow ended up tagging along.

‘I’ve missed you so much too, boobear. Now, show me that husband of yours! Where is he? Did he not come with you to the airport?’ She cranes her neck as if Harry might be hiding somewhere behind a pillar or something.

Louis shakes his head. “He’s studying for a resit. But I’ll drive us home and then you’ll get to meet him, how’s that sound?”

He glances over at Zayn, who’s patiently standing off to the side, guarding what seems to be his mother’s luggage.

She follows his gaze, then sighs. ‘Ah. Turns out he was on the same flight.’

Louis just stares at her. ‘What? What’d you want me to do, Louis? He’s practically family. I can’t just ignore him.’

He can hear the implied judgment in her tone. _Not like you have_.

It’s unfair, and he knows she knows it too. Reluctantly, he shifts to look at Zayn properly.

He’s still as handsome as ever, which is really rather unfortunate and infuriating to Louis.

“Hey,” he says. He can feel his mum softly squeezing his wrist, signalling her gratitude.

Zayn seems half-shocked at Louis actually acknowledging him, but recovers quickly and nods back. ‘Hi.’

“Do you need a ride, somewhere?”

‘He’s staying at a hotel that’s on the way to your house, Louis,’ his mother interrupts – leaving no room for discussion.

It’s a bit of an awkward ride back, where his mum chatters on and on about his sisters, his little brother and the people back home, before asking him almost anything there is to ask about Harry’s background.

“You should join the Immigration Office here, mum. Your questions are great practice,” Louis says with a laugh, yet feeling somewhat happily relieved at the news they’ve arrived at their first destination – Zayn’s hotel.

“Hey – thanks for the ride, Louis. I appreciate it,” he says as they’re both hunched under the lifted backend of his car while they haul Zayn’s bag out.

Louis just hums in acknowledgment. They both know he mostly did it for his mum. Zayn, however, seems intent on trying to fix the frostiness in the air.

‘You know, I wish I could’ve been what you needed, when you needed it. You deserve everything, Louis. Don’t settle for less. I’m sorry I was less than good to you, or good for you.’

“What if I’m not good enough for _him_?” He hears himself asking out loud, insecurities washing over him like a tidal wave.

‘You know, when we were driving here – you were talking about Harry. And I - I know that look, Louis. I’ve seen it before. It’s how you used to look at me,’ Zayn says ruefully. ‘And trust me when I say I’ve yet to find something as beautiful and bright as staring into straight sunshine.’

Louis stares at him, then nods abruptly and turns around as he waves goodbye.

Maybe him and Zayn will make up one day, but that day – it’s not today.

…

Harry is still in the same position as he was when Louis left, engrossed in a book on creative arts. Louis can’t help the way in which the corner of his mouth tilts upwards at the sight, before clearing his throat.

With a startle, Harry sits upright, gets rid of the breadcrumbs lingering in his lap and moves to greet Louis’ mum.

“Oh, just call me Jay, Harry. Or mum – I’m your mother-in-law now, anyways. Whatever you prefer.”

Harry smiles and relaxes ever so slightly, before taking a quick peak in Louis’ direction. He can tell there’s still some lingering anxiety, but hopefully once he gets to know his mum it’ll fade away.

Louis watches his mother and his husband bond from afar, then giggles every time Harry brings up a new fact he’s learned about Louis once they’re already in bed. Strangely enough, his mother’s presence has been just the distraction they’ve needed to go back to how it was before – or at least to how they were pretending it was before,

This night, though, it feels a little different. Harry’s stiff as he walks into their shared room, shying away from Louis’ touches in a way not all too unfamiliar with Louis’ own behaviour lately.

‘So – no questions this time?’ Louis jokes, but all Harry does is stare ahead of him, face carefully wiped of any and all expressions, it seems.

“She told me a bit about Zayn. And was surprised I didn’t know who he was,” he spits out eventually.”

Oh.

“Is he the reason why you left the States?” Harry asks then, refusing to look at Louis. Louis can see how his shoulders are drawn up tightly, muscles all tense from where he’s trying very hard to keep some space between the two of them.

It hurts. Because he’s right, but also because Louis _knows_ how he’ll interpret that. And he doesn’t want his past to ruin his present, or his future. He doesn’t want it to hurt Harry. Not just because he wants to protect Harry. Selfishly, he doesn’t want to hurt him either.

‘Yes and no. Partly,’ Louis starts, and he knows it’s impossible, but it’s almost like he can feel all the fight and emotion leave Harry at that statement.

‘But you have to understand – I was 15, 16 when we met. And I loved him. He was my first love, yes. But he also broke my heart. I felt betrayed, and hurt, and – ignored. He – he didn’t mean to, but he did. Treated me as if I didn’t exist. And so all I wanted to do, after, was to get away. As far as possible. Have a new start.’

They’re both quiet for a bit. Louis doesn’t quite know what to do, and so he just sits and waits for Harry to do something instead.

“Do you – d’you think you might still be in love with him?” He asks, and it’s so out of left field that Louis almost starts laughing.

He shakes his head. ‘No. I’m very sure I’m not.’

Harry hums in response. “Goodnight, Lou,” he settles on in the end, then leans over and kisses Louis’ cheek. It feels a lot like a breakthrough.

* * *

Louis doesn’t run into Zayn again, and he takes it his mum doesn’t want to push it either. Instead, she seems keen on observing Louis and Harry – frequently telling the both of them how lovely they look together, and how comfortable they seem.

It’s on Louis’ graduation ceremony, that it dawns on him once more what long-lasting effects his union with Harry will have. Jay insists that Harry’s included in most of the pictures, given that he’s “family now” as well. He can’t just erase him, or photoshop him out of his life. What is more – he doesn’t _want_ to either.

And despite his best efforts of trying to make everything appear as normal as possible, his mother sees right through it. “You know, whatever it is that you and Harry are going through, that you don’t want to tell me – I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I’m proud of you. Degree or no degree. Husband, no husband. God knows I’ve had my fair share of failures before getting it right. It’s all part of the process.”

They’re sitting outside, enjoying the sun for a bit on the second to last day of her stay. Harry is off with Niall, and part of him wishes he wasn’t. Wishes that Harry wanted to spend time with him and his mum instead. He knows it’s unfair, but he can’t help it.

Louis swallows, debating whether or not to tell her the truth. ‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ he starts. ‘I love Harry. I’m just - not sure if he’s in love with me too.’

Jay motions with her hand for him to shuffle up closer, so she can properly hug him. “And that’s okay, boobear. You’re so young. It’s okay to not have it figured out. It’s okay to decide later on that things don’t work, that despite making a commitment – you decide to break up instead. Circumstances change. People change. You just need to communicate with one another. And keep in mind that if you truly love someone, it can mean letting them go and trusting they’ll come back to you.’

She pauses, then winks at Louis. ‘Kinda like what I do with you.’

He laughs, and takes a shaky breath. “Thanks, mum. I’ll keep it in mind.”

‘Course you will. I give great advice, I _am_ your mother after all.’

Louis is going to miss her, and her good advice – even when he decides not to listen. 


	6. T plus 8 months

It ends much like the way it began - with a thick letter. Except, this time around, it’s addressed to one Sir Louis Tomlinson-Styles. 

For a change, it’s Louis who collects their mail first, and he’s glad that he did. Because, after three months of working temp jobs and applying for a contract, he gets offered a dream position in Manchester. The pay’s great, the work looks promising, and most importantly, it includes a visa guarantee.

He should be ecstatic. Instead, he finds himself frozen in the hallway as he read the letter over and over again while a feeling of dread settles into his stomach.

It’s actually over, he thinks. No more excuses to sleep in the same bed, to hold hands, or to kiss. Fate is cruel like that, forcing his hand just as things were starting to look up again, with Harry and Louis having fallen back into a nice rhythm.

With a sigh, he hides the letter in his bedside drawer, before starting on dinner. He’s taken to cooking Harry meals sometimes, now that he’s back in uni mode and Louis is only working part-time jobs. It’s – domestic, in a way that Louis hadn’t anticipated he would enjoy.

What is more, apparently it’s a huge turn-on for Harry to see Louis in an apron. In an attempt to distract himself from the fact that everything is going to change, he throws himself into preparing them a quiche.

Louis smiles when Harry compliments him on the food. He grins when Harry kisses him, sharing the same terrible garlic breath. He groans in pleasure as he comes all over himself, after Harry’s eaten him out for dessert.

And yet, as he stares at a sleeping Harry – snoring softly, because he’s lying on his wrong side – he can’t get himself to smile.

Because as much as he wants to treasure these final moments; that’s still what they are. Nothing more than fleeting moments that don’t last, that he’ll never have again. Like wanting to catch lightning in a bottle – you can’t.

He strokes Harry’s cheek, then presses a soft kiss to his temple, before squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears from falling.

Tomorrow, everything will change.

“What the fuck is this,” Harry growls as soon as he catches sight of the brown envelope that’s laying on their kitchen countertop.

‘It’s – it’s divorce papers,’ Louis starts shakily.

‘I got a job offer.’

“Are you fucking serious right now? You want to get a divorce?” Louis isn’t sure whether Harry sounds surprised, or in aggravated anguish.

He grabs the envelope and pulls out the stack of paperwork, before letting out a humourless laugh. “I thought you were kidding. What a fucking fool.”

‘The deal was that we’d divorce once it was no longer necessary,’ Louis says, eyes shut tight in an attempt to steady himself.

Harry roars in disbelief. “So what was that the other day? Was that just a final pity fuck? You already knew and decided not to tell me?”

‘I – no. Never. I –‘ Louis doesn’t even get the chance to explain, because Harry’s pacing the living room now.

“I can’t fucking believe this. You know what. Fuck you. Fuck you and the fact you made me fall for your stupid charade, your stupid charm, and your stupid complexion. Remember when we said one of our rules was we’d break this whole thing up if someone fell in love?”

He gives Louis exactly 2 seconds to respond, before powering on. “Well, in that case – I should’ve asked you to divorce me months ago. When I fell in love with _you_.”

Louis immediately turns to look Harry in the eye. There’s a defiant gleam in there, that seems to say “in for a penny, in for a pound”, as Harry continues.

“I love your smile, the crinkles by the corners of your mouth and your eyes. I love the little triangle of freckles on your face, and I love all the other constellations I’ve picked up on while you were sleeping. I love your humor, I love your heart. I love how you fail to be on time for your own appointments, but always make an effort for others. I love your art – as terrible as it is sometimes. And I love how much you always try to do for others. 

You're my best friend, my partner, and I can't believe fucking Niall saw that you were perfect for me much earlier than I did, and earned money with it.

But I hate that you’re giving up on us, so fucking easily.”

He frowns at that. That isn’t true. “I didn’t . I didn’t give up! I thought – I thought you _wanted_ this to end. That this was temporary, I didn’t – I don’t want you to feel like you are responsible for me. I love you, Harry, but I only want to give us a chance if we’re equals.’

Harry shakes his head ruefully and reaches out to grab a hold of Louis’ hand.

“Please, all I’m asking is for a chance. For us to see where this goes. Take the job, take the visa swap, but please also take this marriage. Take my hand, and keep it - keep _me. _I don’t want to lose this, _us_. I love you, Lou. _Baby_. Please stay in this marriage with me.”

His mind is reeling from Harry’s confession, and he finds himself glancing back and forth between Harry and the papers that are still scattered across the table.

“All you have to do, is say yes. Just say yes – please,” Harry pleads, hopefully.

Louis pretends to think it over, but he can’t help the elated grin from taking over his face.

‘When it comes to you, my answer will always be yes.’

In for a penny, in for a pound.


End file.
